Aeron bade his goodbyes and almost made it to the door again before the deafening cacophony of smashing glass exploded in their ears. Another spirit bottle lay shattered on the hard floor. This time it appeared to have fallen from the optics. Aeron and Gareth shared a look of bewildered terror. Efa tutted.
“This place is falling apart,” she declared, apparently un-phased, and giving no credence to a paranormal explanation. The men bucked themselves up. Falling apart it certainly seemed to be. Efa said it would be a good idea to assess in daylight what needed fixing.
They mopped up and left without further incident. It was with relief Aeron watched the door slamming shut in Gareth’s firm grasp. He turned with a smile, keys jangling to indicate it was locked up for the night, and they went their separate ways.
Roll on Christmas, Aeron muttered as he walked home.
Chapter Six
Aeron’s return was noticed by both the remaining occupants of number twenty-four. In Bronwyn’s case it was intentional. The two of them keen to make the most of their time together before their families cleaved them apart for the brief Christmas break.
Neil roused to the sound of the enthusiastic Lothario closing the front door with a flourish and then talking in loud whispers to his awaiting lover. He found the hushed tone even more piercing than if they’d spoken at normal volume
He was fully awake when the impossible to ignore sounds of a banging headboard made him realise he would remain conscious in cringing embarrassment for a while yet. He hated that he was embarrassed. If he had a girlfriend (or if he’d ever had), maybe he would accept the disturbance with a knowing smile. Maybe he’d laugh, instead of lying here squirming, desperate to block it out.
The concentration on the floor directly below allowed him to detect the acoustic anomaly he became aware of next. He really wished he was asleep and hadn’t heard it.
At first he thought he must have got it wrong. That he had assumed incorrectly the couple’s activity. That in fact, Aeron had brought a friend home instead. Because there was definitely someone in the lounge, he could hear their shuffling footsteps.
But, the knock-knocking of fervent copulation was unmistakable, and Neil knew that whoever he could hear couldn’t be there from Aeron’s invitation. The hairs on the back of his neck pricked to the dread. Removing the pillow from his ears to discern the noise, he left the cover over him for the illusory protection it proffered.
There would be no help from his housemates. He would have to deal with this alone. If it was a ghost, what could he be expected to do? But it wouldn’t be a ghost, would it? It was someone else—an intruder.
The telly, the X-box, and other things of value would be easy to steal. Bronwyn had wrapped a few presents. He didn’t know who for, but he was certain she’d be gutted to lose them. The student purse was tight.
He couldn’t pretend he’d heard nothing and go back to sleep. He couldn’t allow himself to be such a coward. Careful not to make a sound, he pulled his door ajar. It creaked alarmingly, forcing him to scurry to the stairs. Creeping gingerly, he lowered himself onto the edge of each step whilst taking some of the strain by gripping the banister.
He had almost reached the bottom when he realised he hadn’t a clue what he should do next and was mere feet away from whatever was making noises in the lounge. He could call Aeron for help but he would be none too pleased if it turned out to be simply a cat or something.
Reaching Bronwyn’s door, he heard the insufferable final throws of passion. Creeping past, his attention was momentarily taken with the notion they might catch him in the hallway and get completely the wrong idea.
His concentration snapped back to his original endeavour when the unmistakable sound of a chair scraping against the floor-board effect vinyl hit his ears like a bee sting. He flushed with a new wave of fear, his legs turned to jelly and a whimper escaped his lips betraying his hiding place.
What should he do? He knew he had to look before someone made off with their stuff, but his shaking limbs commanded by his stiff, unyielding brain, would struggle to accomplish that.
He spotted something in the door he had never given much thought to. Its lack of function made it almost invisible. A large keyhole, for which they had no key, was the ideal covert viewpoint. He knelt down and put his eye to the small hole.
It took a moment to recognise things. The light was on and his view unobstructed, but the hole was too small to give the panorama needed to see the entire room.
There was the couch against the wall, and the wires of various consoles tangling around one another. And the chair, which moments before must have been dragged across the floor, sitting curiously in the middle of the lounge. The rug, normally covering the vinyl, rucked up against the leg.
Neil’s eye widened, his forehead pained by a much painted-over screw from the keyhole as he pressed his face against it, straining for a better view. He gasped, flinching back before forcing himself to resume his gaze. The empty chair which filled his view tipped back, all by itself, balancing mid-air as though someone was sitting, rocking backwards.
The confirmation of the glanced aberration escaped from Neil as an involuntary yelp and he shot away from the door. His eye, still focussed on the ever shrinking image, just caught sight of the chair tipping forward again.
Scrambling to his feet, he scurried to the staircase, almost tripping over himself but never taking his eyes from the door. The sound the chair made, skidding back along the floor and banging hard into the table, echoed up the hallway. For the second time in recent memory, Neil wet himself. He ran crying up the stairs just as Aeron and Bronwyn’s door flew open.
“You alright, Neil?” asked a half-naked Aeron, looking towards the lounge as he spoke—the noisy crashing of the chair made him expect that’s where he’d see Neil. Spotting him trembling on the stairs, he did a double-take. Neil wanted to put it behind him. He needed answers but he couldn’t face going back to the lounge to describe what had happened. So he just nodded.
Relief that the burden of hearing supernatural shenanigans was now the duty of Aeron and Bronwyn, he made his way gratefully back to bed. Laying, quivering in a tight ball with the covers over his head, as the darkness of the night gave way to the light of dawn, he finally fell into fitful sleep.
Chapter Seven
He woke to the grating drone of his alarm at half-past seven. Surprising himself, despite his tiredness, he leapt straight out of bed. The opportunity to leave the house was reason enough to be efficient.
His dad was due to collect him and take him back home today and he was desperate to see his loving family and be away from this place. Soon he would be back in the happy town of Bishops Stortford, where he had lived his whole life.
His family: himself, his parents and his little sister Emma, had moved house once in his lifetime, but only from one big fifties semi to an even larger detached house on a new estate in the same town. He loved it. Large enough to have all the shops, pubs and nightlife he liked without being at all sprawling.
Swansea’s small size for a city had been one of its attractions when making his choice of University, hoping it would be a home from home. Crossing the vast stretch of water of the Severn estuary made it feel further away. But the hills brought back comforting memories of family holidays in the Brecon Beacons.
Standing outside campus for the first time, he had been finally seduced by a high panoramic view of the gorgeous sweep of Swansea Bay. But he hadn’t considered how he would have to walk down that bloody hill every time he wanted to go into the city centre, and more significantly, walk back up it again. Nice, flat Bishop’s Stortford was going to be great.
Sitting alone in the canteen, eating sausage beans and chips, picturing his home at Christmas, he grinned. Four large trees adorned the house every year. Three were artificial, but they always had a real tree in the lounge, and it would always be huge. For the authentic smell, his mum always said.
Gifts inclined to the generous side.
He was really hoping this year for a car to compliment last year’s gift, among other things, many other things, of a long course of driving lessons. Swansea hills wouldn’t bother him then, would they? He sat, half a sausage midway between plate and mouth, daydreaming about offering lifts home from pubs and clubs to pretty girls, and maybe, if it was a nice car, getting a girlfriend, or a kiss, at least.
He couldn’t wait to be away from dreary Rhondda Street. Three or four weeks not worrying about food in the cupboards would be bliss. Three or four weeks without being petrified in his bed at night, listening to sounds of goodness only knows from below his room would be even better.
He only had one more, short lecture, then he’d rush back and finish packing. The thought made him almost giggle out loud but he was thankful he didn’t. He returned his empty plate helpfully to the canteen service counter and headed to his last lecture of twenty-fourteen.
“I’m gonna miss you so much, presh!” Bronwyn purred in her strong Welsh accent, nuzzling Aeron’s neck. “Why can’t we just stay yere for Christmas?”
The lure of young love tempted them away from their families, but they knew how much they were missed at home and wouldn’t really deny them their company. They also knew that once ensconced in their comfy family homes, they’d be quite reluctant to come back to Swansea again anyway. For now though, it felt like a poignant goodbye.
“I know, babes. I’d love to,” Aeron agreed. “It’ll fly by though, I’m sure,” he reassured, squeezing her hand as they sat watching TV in the lounge. Pleased with the time together, they occasionally looked away from the screen to gaze into one another’s adoring eyes.
The sound of footsteps on the stone front steps disturbed their peace. Keys rattled the lock, and then they were no longer alone. Neil flew through the door full of excitement. Hearing Aeron and Bronwyn in the lounge, he called out an embarrassed greeting after last night’s weirdness before heading straight upstairs to finish packing his bags.
He had just reached his bedroom and was fumbling with his key when his phone vibrated, Bohemian Rhapsody floating up from his pocket. Plucking it deftly out, ‘Home’ flashed on the screen.
“Hello,” he greeted cheerily.
“Hello, Son,” his dad’s voice emitted from his phone’s tinny speaker. “Listen. I’ve got a bit of work to do, and I wondered if it would be alright to come and get you tomorrow instead?”
Neil felt stupid, but he struggled to answer through the treacle of emotion. “Mm hmm,” he mumbled. Collin Hedges knew his son well enough to gauge his distress.
“If you’re desperate to get back,” he said, “I could probably sort something out. But it would be late, not until about ten or eleven. We wouldn’t get back home before two or three in the morning.”
Aware he was being selfish and unreasonable expecting his dad to drive all this way after working late, he couldn’t help himself.
“I would prefer to come home tonight…” he sniffed, choking back tears of homesickness and hopelessness. “If that’s okay?” Neil cringed at his own feebleness. Acknowledging his son’s disappointment, Collin agreed to come tonight and ended the call after confirming he would see him later.
The guilt dampened his spirits, but not for long. His dad was probably chuffed at how keen he was to get home. Parents liked to feel needed, Neil nodded to himself.
Completing his packing only took a few minutes. Laying back on his bed, he looked around the room. It wasn’t so bad he supposed. It was roomy. And its location—up a separate little staircase from the landing—made him feel private from the others. But what had been great for keeping himself to himself had added to his anxiety with all the goings on of late.
With that in mind, and with a long wait for his dad in front of him, he decided to be uncharacteristically sociable and join his two lingering housemates in the lounge. When he got to the door he pushed down a flush of apprehension and made himself go in and be with his friends.
Aeron and Bronwyn disentangled and sat up.
“Come in, Neil,” Bronwyn invited, patting the spare place on the sofa. Not wanting to feel a complete gooseberry he opted to sit on the chair instead.
The three of them enjoyed a couple of beers together. After which mild inebriation, Aeron decided to share with the others his experiences at The Railway. Neil looked as though he might cry.
“So, it’s not just us with a poltergeist then!” he declared triumphantly. “Did you hear the noises in here last night?”
“Poltergeist?” Bronwyn snorted, spraying a fine mist of Double Dragon bitter into the air. “Steady on Neil. I’m sure there’s a more rational explanation than that.”
Aeron, remembering how afraid Neil had been last night, couldn’t help but blurt out, “Jon at the Railway seemed pretty terrified of it. A proper old state, he was in.” Embarrassed at his outburst, he coughed to clear his dry throat and carried on. “He’s got staff covering for him because he’s apparently had a drunken fall. But I think he’s really too frightened to come back.”
“He’s a right creep that one,” Bronwyn said, ignoring the crux of Aeron’s statement. “He’s always looking at my tits.”
Aeron smiled, thankful his unease seemed to have gone unnoticed.
“You alright, Neil?” he asked, leaning forwards and placing a comforting hand on his knee. Neil nodded, but he was visibly trembling.
“I don’t like it,” he said solemnly. “We need to get a priest or something. I can’t live like this.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Neil!” Bronwyn protested. “What exactly is it you’re so terrified of? Eh?”
“Don’t you hear the noises late at night?” he whined. “Not just last night though. And then there’s the washing all over the floor, and the broken plates and stuff!”
“Noises in the night! That’ll be that fat fucker upstairs! You don’t get to be Matthew’s size without some serious midnight grazing. And I’ve caught Josh cooking up all sorts in the early hours of the morning, so that’s what that is,” argued Bronwyn.
Neil baulked at the word ‘caught’ in reference to anyone using the kitchen whenever they wanted to, but he didn’t have the courage to voice his dismay. He pointed out that he would have known if either of them had walked past his room to the creaky stairs, and it didn’t sound like cooking noise anyway. And, neither of them were even in the house last night!
Bronwyn gave a look which concisely conveyed her contempt of Neil’s credibility.
“Well I didn’t hear anything, Neil. And my room is much closer than yours.”
“But I’m right above it!” Neil almost yelled. “And it was not cooking noises. Who would cook with no-one here anyway?”
“Oh, and what does cooking sound like then, Neil?” Bronwyn challenged, unnecessarily aggressively, deliberately missing the point. “I’m sure there’s plenty to eat that doesn’t need cooking anyway. I just said I caught Josh cooking once, that’s all!” Neil could hold his temper no longer.
“What do you mean, ‘caught’?” he shrieked. “You don’t bloody own this house, you know! We all pay rent. You’ve already got your own bathroom. That’s not fair.”
Aeron roused himself to keep the peace. “Come on you two,” he soothed. “Calm down. It’s nearly Christmas!”
Bronwyn’s face softened and her mouth opened and closed a few times as she considered the point. “It is the time for good will to all,” she agreed and added warmth to a forced smile. She said a heartfelt ‘sorry’ and Neil returned the sentiment. He was pleased he’d asserted himself.
They settled down with another can of beer each and watched Will Ferrell’s ‘Elf’, in Neil’s opinion the greatest movie of all time. It was part of the television schedule counting down the nights until Christmas. They were soon all laughing so loud they barely heard the knocking on the door from Neil’s father. Bronwyn noticed eventually.
“Is that your dad?” she prompted. Neil leaped up and skipped down the hallway to answer the door.
> “Hello, hello,” Collin greeted, stepping into the house from the cold outside. “I thought you must be asleep!”
“No, just watching ‘Elf’” Neil explained.
“It’s definitely Christmas!” Collin declared. “You love that film don’t you?” Neil grinned, and grinned doubly when his little sister leaped from her hiding place behind their dad’s legs.
“Boo!” she cried and giggled.
“Emma! What are you doing up?”
“I’d promised her she could come before I realised it would be so late. She was so keen to see her big brother at University. And there’s no school tomorrow.”
Neil was thrilled. He lifted her up and carried her through to the lounge.
“Emma! You’re up late,” declared Bronwyn. She rushed into the kitchen and returned, having robbed some of the Christmas supplies she’d collected over the last couple of weeks, and thrust a chocolate Father Christmas and snowman into her hands.
Emma’s eyes widened with joy. “Thank you,” she said before frantically ripping off the foil and chomping Santa’s head off. She chuckled a chocolate toothed laugh when Bronwyn pointed out that her callous behaviour might mean less presents from the newly decapitated Father Christmas.
“Hello, Mr Hedges,” Bronwyn greeted politely as Neil’s dad entered the room.
“Please, call me Colin,” he replied.
“Cuppa, Dad?” asked Neil, including Aeron and Bronwyn in the invitation by way of facial contortions. They nodded enthusiastically. Collin, usually reluctant to partake due to the questionable hygiene in the grubby student abode, reassured by the relative cleanliness, gratefully accepted. Neil set about it.
“Come on, titch. You can help,” he invited, planning to spoil his little sister with biscuits and fizzy drinks when they were out of sight. He was also pleased to have someone he could call ‘titch’. There weren’t many.
After negotiating Emma down to a more reasonable two or three of each type of biscuit in the cupboard (Bourbon, Penguin and fun-sized Kit-Kat), instead of the five she had tried to insist would be a good amount, Neil returned to the lounge with the respective teas and coffees.
Blurred Lines: A box-set of reality bending supernatural fiction (Paranormal Tales from Wales Book 9) Page 39